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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26122675">Mannerly</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaceloveandjocularity/pseuds/peaceloveandjocularity'>peaceloveandjocularity</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity'>stateofintegrity</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>MASH (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:22:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,832</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26122675</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaceloveandjocularity/pseuds/peaceloveandjocularity, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles tries to broadcast his feelings through his fine manners. It isn't a smashing success.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mannerly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sherman Potter had seen some things in his time, by gum, but the premier heart surgeon of Boston General rising to his feet at mess for a slip of a Corporal in a slip of a dress beat all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Winchester stood </span>
  <em>
    <span>every time</span>
  </em>
  <span> without fail. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, well. I haven’t seen a stranger match since Doc Frestein’s barn cat fell for that owl… but damned if they didn’t curl up in that hayloft together</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And hadn’t people bet pretty hard against he and the Mrs.? Potter had a soft spot for misfits… and Winchester looked to need all the help he could get. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On a slow day when his merry, trouble-making children had gone to play basketball or fish or read in the sunlight, Potter strode up to the surgeon who was lingering over lunch, eyes dazed and helpless in the face of what could only be a great (and greatly perplexing) love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winchester straightened at the sight of a superior officer and would have stood for his bandy-legged commander, but Potter waved him off to say, “All the courtliness in the world’s not gonna get through to that boy, Major.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea what you are referring to, sir.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His attempts at feigning ignorance just won him a shrewd look. “I know a gentleman’s honor code when I see it, mister. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn’t understand it. He’s not from fancy. So you’d best figure out the words to go with your footwork before his hurt feelings have him back in fatigues faster than you can say horsefeathers.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A single word in Potter’s alliterative speech seemed to strike home with Winchester, anyway. “The words? You mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell</span>
  </em>
  <span> him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter took a swig of coffee so strong it could have stood up, walked away, gotten in a brawl, and returned for a beer. “Or you can keep playing it this way. How’s it working so far?” He read Winchester’s face. “‘Course, it could be that I’m just an old horseman who doesn’t know what he’s on about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am, ah, revising my opinion of you as we speak, sir.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter smiled at that; old as Winchester was, he needed a parent’s approval - and at the 4077th, Potter was </span>
  <em>
    <span>everyone’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> guardian. “Tell the boy, Major. What you’re thinking. How you feel. And make it clear. He’ll listen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Winchesters do not think or feel what I’m feeling in any terms... nor do they speak of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Potter gave his big-toothed grin. “Pretend your last name is Smith. And if you begin the next sentence with Winchesters, I’ll make it an order.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles held his fingers to his brow. “Yes, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well? Go on. Dismissed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Charles went. And as he did, he wondered: </span>
  <em>
    <span>how do Smiths approach the person they should not have fallen in love with but desperately do not wish to lose? Is stalking permitted in the middle class?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In the compound dust, his muddled, hopeful thoughts were interrupted by the very object of his affection, who grinned at him brightly and sent him pivoting on his heels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Major had discovered one thing, anyway. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Smiths run away. That’s what they do. They go AWOL and never speak of this again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>But what he ran into was a problem in the form of his fellow surgeon, who had observed his less than noble retreat. “Didn’t your mother teach you it’s rude to stare, Chuckles?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh no</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I was not staring, Pierce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pierce nodded at him in faux agreement, eyes radiant as they broadcast that the other man knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what Charles had been doing - and why. “Whatever you say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someday you will have to explain it to me, how your agreement is somehow worse than your terrible jokes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawk ignored this. “So, what is it about our resident Lebanese has you in such a tizzy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am in no such state,” Charles maintained, going chilly and formal. “Certainly not on account of the Corporal. This whole camp is mad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Winchester armor didn’t intimidate Pierce; in fact, he had an annoying habit of acting like he hadn’t come up against it at all. “Klinger’s looking quite lovely today,” he said, appreciative eyes turned toward the corpsman, who was going about his rounds. “Think I could get him to take a trip to supply with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles whirled on him with a gaze that crackled with sudden lightning. “You wouldn’t dare! You already have two-thirds of the nursing staff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three-fifths and climbing,” Hawk corrected. “But it’s like that jeep challenge we did. There’s always room for one more. Especially if the one is pretty. What do you care?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t be faithful, that’s why. He deserves better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pierce grinned a blade-sharp smile. “Like you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Delighted as I am that you have finally chosen to acknowledge my obvious superiority, ah, no.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, ah, why not?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed he was well and truly caught. “The Colonel thinks… that perhaps…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re killing me with these pauses, Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...that I should inform him of my feelings,” he admitted at last.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawk had known that they were friends - he and this closed off creature, but Charles trusting him with this glimpse of his heart truly sealed it. “Klinger thinks you’ve been making fun of him, so I’d hustle if I were you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles, who, in rising to his feet, had acted out of the finest feelings he had, gaped. “He what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would you think?  Icy, regal, upper class surgeon - lonely, scared, angry, trapped little Corporal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is a great many descriptors. Writing a novel, Pierce?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And all of them perfectly descriptive,” Hawk teased. “It’s a lot of reasons for him not to trust you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles sighed. “I was trying to be kind, you know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then go be even kinder,” Hawk urged. “I’m sure your lips against the back of his hand would be a good place to start. Then move up. Or down if you’d prefer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles arched an amused eyebrow at him. “That started out courtly…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can go talk to him for you if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Without getting his hands involved?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a chance.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I decline, Captain.” These words contained more than themselves. They broadcast the stern message: stay off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better hurry then - my afternoon is free.” Seeing Charles’ eyes become dangerous again, Hawkeye burst out laughing. “You’ll duel for the man but <em>kissing</em> scares you? Upper class life is very odd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles was emotional enough not to be his usual careful self. “You had nearly two years to pursue him before I got here. Besides, dueling allows him the chance to walk away. Kissing…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I do not think I could let him go</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d die for him before you’d kiss him? How much sense does that make?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That, ah, does, somehow, seem to be what I have said. And, granted, very little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go kiss him, you coward, or I’ll do it,” Hawk threatened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles didn’t get a chance to reply. Klinger had reversed his route and seeing him, Hawk called him over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope your death is a slow one,” Charles told his tentmate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger turned up before them, bright as a lucky penny left to flash in the sun. “You bellowed, your captain-ness?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawk looked expectantly at Winchester. “Charles?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go away, Pierce.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling that he had paid the price of admission, Hawk stayed put. “We could ask him who he’d prefer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who I’d prefer for what?” Max asked, looking back and forth between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing for it then. Touching the Corporal on the shoulder (it was more than he’d dared up to this point) Charles said, “Max, shall we go to your tent? I… I wish to talk to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The gentle Corporal shot a look at Hawk. “About what, sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawkeye cut up at this and Charles wished he carried a scalpel at his hip. “About matters that do not concern the Captain whatsoever.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing, but since I’ve got both of you here, any chance of a change of heart about that section eight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawk laughed harder at that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger shrugged. “Can’t blame a girl for trying. This place is terrible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles led him away from Hawkeye’s amused eyes then, said, hopefully, “Surely it isn’t all bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger cast one backward, confused look at the Captain. “It’s no Toledo, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No Boston, either. Be that as it may, there must be something here to make you happy, make the nights a little less frightful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not so far. I mean the clothes, I guess? But you know what you get for doing guard duty in heels? Blisters and a coupla insincere whistles, that’s what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles (who had accidentally whistled more than once) flushed, remembering. “I am certain some were, ah, quite honestly admiring. It is no easy thing, you know, to approach a lovely individual holding a gun, Max.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Corporal paused in the dirt of the compound. He thought about Hawk’s laughing face. “Is that what you wanted to tell me, Major?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not in this precise way, perhaps, but, ah, yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dark eyes narrowed. “For real?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles remembered what Pierce had said. “Maxwell, I am not deceiving you. You, ah, may not have noticed, but I do stand when you enter a room. I open doors. I respect you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had noticed. More than that, he’d noticed the way the Captains laughed. Everyone knew that Maxwell Q. Klinger wasn't a lady. And no one seemed to get what he was after with the dresses. Sure, the section eight was part of it, but comfort was a part, too, as was the opportunity to be himself. It left him open to a lot of ribbing.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles read his face. “It would seem that you do not believe that I am sincere.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don't seem to like anyone here much. I'm just trying to figure out what's so special about me. Messing with me… seems like the fun kind of game you could play if you were rich and never going to see someone again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unaccustomed to this depth of suspicion, Charles gaped. “First, the number of things which are special about you might fill a shelf of volumes. Second, I am no closer to escaping this place than you are, and if I was, I would yet find a way to see you again.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Even if it meant, heaven help me, actually </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>enlisting</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t some prank the Captains put you up to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Do you have something I might swear on to perhaps speed this process?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger began to walk again at that, and he didn’t bar him from entering his tent. But he was watching him closely. “Pick your favorite dress of mine and swear on it - on that and on your honor as a gentleman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My favorite dress is the green satin and my honor is beyond dispute,” Charles said without missing a beat. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh. Maybe he is serious.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a seat on his desk, Klinger gestured at the mess of his collection. “Find it, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sensing that things had shifted in his favor, at least a little, Charles asked. “You would allow a gentleman, suspect though I may be, paw through your delicate creations, my dear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanna see how deep I can make you blush, Major. So get to it. Consider it part of my payback for weeks of feeling paranoid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will submit to my lady’s commands, but I reiterate that I was acting out of respect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger didn’t let him see how that pronoun affected him. “Helps if the object of your affections speaks the same language as you, sir. And I don't speak upper crust Boston.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would have translated, had you come to me. Object of?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don't give me that look.You’ve got searching to do.” He shooed him toward the wardrobe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> you understood but my standing up was a mystery?” He began to carefully move aside velvety hangers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They won’t break, Major,” Klinger said. “Most of them, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Respect, Maxwell,” Charles reminded him. “You made them so I owe them my respect, on or off your enchanting form.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amused, Klinger offered a little helpful advice. “Just be careful of the lace. Everything else will survive a little rough treatment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling decidedly cheered by the smile in his tone, Charles quipped, “Does that go for everything else on you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the general rule, yeah. And, hey Major?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, beautiful?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not too much lace on today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Duly noted. Am I warm or cold to this fabled object? Questing as I am, I may place it under my pillow once it’s found.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing just fine.” And then his mouth fell open in a surprised little o when Charles located the dress </span>
  <em>
    <span>by feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> - then turned back with a smug little smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, will you accept my word?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I have to. That was impressive. What else can your hands do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thoracic surgeon,” Charles reminded him, stroking the gown. “They do a great many fabulous things.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> concerned for his heart with this tall, patrician man he’d apparently misread from day one. But if Charles really did think he was worth standing for… if he really wanted to treat him with class… then wouldn’t it be so nice to experience something like that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re not gonna hurt me? You promise?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles drew near enough to take his hand. “You have my word, Max, as you have my heart.” He kissed his fingers. “I am sorry I gave you cause to doubt my intentions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kiss changed something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maxwell had been kissed, but he’d also been shipped out at eighteen, so there his experiences ground to a halt. And no kiss before this one had ever made him quite so conscious of the dozens of </span>
  <em>
    <span>other </span>
  </em>
  <span>places one could be kissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are, ah, notions forming in your very eyes, pet. I take guidance very well, should you care to offer it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m open to innovation.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blush Klinger had been waiting for appeared. “Oh? How open, dearest?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger pushed him back against his cot and let himself be drawn up and into his lap. “Depends on how open your hands can make me,” he teased, guessing how well Charles would deal with the explicit. “They're quite large, so I'm thinking quite open.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Charles knew how to tease, too. He held the younger man tight against him. “Good girl,” he praised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger shivered against him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cold, pet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not. In. The. Least.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, good. Because this will work better if you are considerably less dressed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zipper’s in back. Help yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles intended to, but he started by claiming Klinger’s mouth, distracting him as he pushed his clothing aside, letting it pile in his lap, hiding the evidence of his desire. One day soon, he would help Klinger reorder the drawer of his delicates. He imagined them covering his lap, silky and colorful as flower petals. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding Maxwell to his chest, he used one hand to stroke his dark head until Klinger buried his head in his neck, breathing warm, sacred breaths there, moaning soft and low and insistent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hand moving to the small of his back, Charles kept him close as he began the work to join them. Klinger dragged a blanket over them so that Charles could wipe off his glistening fingers. “I can swipe a clean one from supply.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles lifted one eyebrow. “Please.” He removed a monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket. Klinger shivered; he’d never look at </span>
  <em>
    <span>those</span>
  </em>
  <span> the same again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span>…” Klinger echoed as Charles entered him. “Please.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the Major just closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of him and Klinger found it in himself to be impressed at how tight of a rein the man had on himself. Charles held himself in place until Klinger moved for him, urging and begging in a single motion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easy, love. Just making sure not to cause you pain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a tease, Major.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles rolled his hips, accepting the title. “Tell me how to be otherwise.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rail me as fast as you can until I can’t remember where we are?” Klinger asked hopefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles seemed to consider. Klinger knew what was holding him back, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please? You won’t hurt me, Charles.” Klinger shifted, made him feel all the promise their joined bodies held. “Please, sir? I’m being so pretty for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God knows you are,” Charles said involuntarily. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell me if I cross a line?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Max…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine. Yes. Now tell me how pretty I am and fuck me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles lifted Max’s chin, held him prisoner with his eyes as he shifted positions to meet his (very flattering) demands. “Good girl,” he said again as Klinger moved with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not necessary,” Charles assured him, finding the angle he wanted and thrusting hard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not yet. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands were tight on his beloved’s hips and Klinger </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, thrilled at the length of his fingers, the strength of him, the care in his touch. He made helpless noises to urge him on, happily unraveling and knowing he could fly off this cliff any time; Charles would catch him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this right, Max?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just right. Just like that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles would have chuckled at the bliss-drunk tone, the way Klinger twisted his head against the covers, the strands almost blue in this light, but he was easing out fast to drive in hard and it took a decent amount of concentration not to fumble the rhythm that had Klinger moaning so happily for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sound so pretty,” he praised the younger man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Klinger found a way to sound prettier still when he discovered just how much Charles liked to hear him call his name. Galvanized by that sweet voice, Charles pounded into his new love so hard that the depth of his desire scared him a little. Klinger just smiled at him, held tighter. He knew that the Major needed the release and he would do anything to be the thing that provided it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the end approached, he practically chanted the Major’s name - and Charles became so mesmerized that he froze listening, watching his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger thrashed under him. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Charles don’t </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>stop</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Major blinked, obliged. “Forgive me. I got caught up in your beauty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get caught up later. I’m so close.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might have said!” (Though hearing it got </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> very close, too.) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you think I was saying!?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles looked into his eyes. “Dearheart, the sound of my name on your lips like that was the purest form of intoxication that I have ever known.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Maxwell Q. Klinger lost it in that moment - because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>words</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And seeing him thrash and whine, Charles followed with a low, delighted moan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger expected the Major to stand up, clean up, and go. Instead, he gently cleaned both of them, but then settled the slighter man on his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sleep naked?” Klinger teased, already scheming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With you, yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he also helped see that their messy clothing was set apart from the lovely mess Klinger was working on. “I shall even do the laundry,” said the Major, “since it was my great privilege to make a mess of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feel free to dirty up whatever you want as often as you want,” Max quipped back, bright-eyed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was rather my plan, but I can be quite progressive about splitting chores. Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell Margaret when she’s on a spree, however.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger kissed his nose. “You cook and I'll clean, darling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I will still stand when you come to the table,” Charles teased. “I will even learn to make that pastry you like. Baklava.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'll bring you home to Toledo so my mom can teach you herself,” Max promised.  Hers is loads better than mine. She doesn't speak English though so you'll have to watch her hands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what will she think of me, sweet?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She'll like you as long as I tell her you make me happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a perfect, beautiful, guileless answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will,” Charles promised. “I swear it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Section 8?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Send you away from me? Hardly, Max.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was too good,” the Corporal lamented, pretending tragedy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect,” Charles agreed. “As I knew you would be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger now pretended to scowl at him. “Hard to wanna go when you do that you love-dazed idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. I shall be certain to continue doing it then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jerk.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles ignored this to play with his hair. “You are gorgeous. You felt exquisite around me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though given to scheming for his freedom as well as creature comforts, Klinger wasn’t dishonest. “Think you have to take the credit there.” He made a humming sound as he remembered a particularly exquisite sensation. “You could have anybody, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only want you. I am sorry I failed to convey my finer feelings from the first. I, ah, I am unpracticed, you will find, in love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” Klinger kissed him long and deep. “If youd’ve been practicing with somebody other than me, theyd’ve never let you go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles knew just how incorrect this sentiment was but he found it perfectly adorable just the same. “When we return home, I shall introduce you to society and you will see that it was you, alone, I sought to win. We will have to be cautious, but Honoria will know what you mean to me and she is the only other person who matters in my life. We will be together in every way that matters. And even if society withholds its welcome, you will always belong, always have a home, with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger’s eyes sparkled at this unexpected vision. “Wow. You’re good, Major, when you want to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did get you into bed did I not?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my bed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An act of conquest then. All the more impressive.” And to mark his victory, he lazily signed his name on the Corporal’s naked back. (It was a long name). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger caught on quick; the three lines denoting the Major’s suffix drove him wild as they were added just above his tailbone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess I should be happy you used your cock instead of a flag?” he teased, feeling as thoroughly claimed as he had been fucked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles danced nimbly past his vulgarity to say, “I agree with you being happy, yes. You sounded delighted.” He continued to trace the invisible letters until Klinger stood and retrieved a marker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well? Go on. It’ll wash off but you can sign me again when it does.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like signing an artwork,” Charles said, smiling against his skin, sealing it with a kiss. “You are beautiful and inspiring and mine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klinger laughed and lolled in his arms. “You know, if you’d said that in the mess instead of staring at me and scaring me to death, I woulda gone for it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes. Fine manners were not the way to your heart. But, though I started by rising to the wrong feet, so to speak, it got us here, so I suppose I will hang onto them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Except in bed? Just sometimes? For fun?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing, Charles agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>End! </span>
</p>
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